Cureless
by H. Mauvecloud
Summary: CH5: Dejected kid (read: Goku) decides to take a night stroll, espies object of affection (read: Sanzo) lounging at the bridge. Kid also manages to save a drunken old man from being robbed of all his worldly wealth, thanks to Hakuryuu the errant pet.
1. Sanzo frets

Disclaimer: Characters of Gensoumaden Saiyuki belong to Minekura Kazuya.

Sanzo frets

"Late." A saturnine man in a monk's garments muttered through clenched teeth as he took a drag from his cigarette.

"So unlike you, Sanzo, to be concerned about him," another man, this one with a cheerful countenance, replied. He was wearing a monocle over his right eye. "Though in some cases, a person's character _does_ improve with time, I believe."

"Not him. My cigarettes. I'm down to the last pack," Sanzo growled, watching the smoke from the tip of his cigarette drift across the table. _I know why he's late,_ he thought with disdain. _The skirt-chaser._ Well, that which cannot be cured has to be tolerated. With Hakuryuu down and Hakkai using that as an excuse not to do the grocery this time, that left only one half-decent person for the task. Sanzo and Hakkai were not too keen upon the idea of unleashing Goku upon the unsuspecting population. Therefore, the grocery list had been shoved into Gojyo unwilling hands, though Sanzo had pretended to forget all about the credit card until the half-breed actually demanded it from him.

Everyone needs a break once in a while… maybe so did Hakkai. So let Gojyo do the grocery. He, Sanzo needed a break too. Please, he prayed to the gods he had never believed in, let that dragon heal in at most one day's time. So that they could get off their asses and head on to the west. And once they arrived… then what?

Sanzo had no idea at all. Aside from the vague order from the Three Aspects, he had absolutely no idea of what they were supposed to do there. Truth be told, he didn't give a gnat's ass for the Bull Demon they were supposed to stop. His sole motivation for this mission was much more personal than saving the world. But sometimes he felt so tired that he began to consider how easy it would be to cross the thin line that separated his determination to reach Houtou Castle and the desire to just end everything now and here. 

He fingered the gun in his sleeve, recalling the first thought that had struck him the moment he had laid his eyes on the weapon for the first time. _I'll take this one. It'll be easy to put a bullet in my head with this, anytime, anyplace._ Easy indeed, he thought, beginning to doze off as the half-smoked cigarette laid forgotten in the overflowing ashtray.

Returning from the kitchen with a fresh ashtray, Hakkai's smile crept reflexively on his face. "My, do we have a sleepy baby here." He scooped up the full ashtray from the table, laid the new one in its place, and left. Goku was somewhere, probably keeping their indisposed vehicle company. The boy had been uncharacteristically quiet today. Relatively, that is. Aside from a single "I'm hungry" moan (pointedly ignored by his keeper the irascible monk), Goku had not said much since the morning.

* * *

Gojyo's encounter in town

Another day, another town. Gojyo sighed. It was not like they got to see even a decent _village _every day though. And when they finally got to a town, there was not even an ogle-worthy babe in sight. How was he going to flirt around with these grocery bags in his arms anyway? They were heavy. Full of stuffs. Essential supplies. Such as his packs of fags, worldly monk's packs of fags (_Oh why doesn't he smoke the same brand too? Why does he have to puff on that girly brand? Marlboro soft, eeeks! Perhaps girly brands suit him well. I wonder….) Plus cans and cans of food and beer, boxes of dry ration, the day's paper and new clothing. Did he miss something? _The rubber for me?_ _Check._ _Oh-hoh! Forgot one thing! Tampon for the monk,_ Gojyo thought gleefully. Except staying together with Sanzo was not really like being with a woman, because a woman normally has that time of the month at most 8 out of 28 days. Genjo Sanzo had it 28, or more days per month._

Gojyo's smirk at this take at his traveling companion was interrupted by a shout from a building that all but proclaimed itself as a love motel from its sordid fronts.

"I'm going to get you, you tramp. You whore! And I'm going to kick you where it won't blind you and then stuff those up where the sun don't shine you BITCH!"

Gojyo's jaw dropped with admiration at the (to him) beautifully constructed expletives, despite their grammatical shortcomings. Someone got caught, huh. Being a man of the world, Gojyo had had his share of this type of situations, at the opposite end of the shouter, of course. Being a smart bastard, he had long perfected the art of shingling down the pipes conveniently found just beside the windows of motels like this one [1]. However, this technique was to be used as a last resort, since it was a technique that was only complementary to the art of bribing the front desk for that timely room call.

He had never been caught that way, except for once. Even for that once, his street-brawling skills had sufficed to save his ass. Most of the time he simply crept away (thanks to that call) – out the front entrance, leaving the woman to explain to husband/boyfriend/pimp/dyke what the hell she was doing alone in this kind of place.

Lost in his own recollection, he would not have paid much attention to the figure rushing out of the motel which called itself "The Palanquin Place", had his brain [2] not registered 2 things: One, the angry yelling voice belonged to a man. Two, the first person to dash out of the motel was a woman. _Something is out of place here._ As he walked on, Gojyo tried to scratch his head, but found it impossible with two overflowing paper bags each wedged between his arms. In Gojyo's inestimable worldly experience, the first runner was always a man. Well, almost. He would be followed by the irate husband. The last person to run out would usually be the errant wife.

If the first person dashing out happened to be a woman, the discoverer should have been a woman too.

_Wow. Heh. What do you know. I learnt something today. Some wives _do_ betray their husbands with a girl lover. _

Gojyo continued towards the inn his party was lodging at. The shouting had not attracted much of a crowd, but the street was bustling with people rushing home for dinner with their loved ones _Ah, my loved ones, here comes Gojyo-sama, bringing home the bread._ Someone knocked him over, spilling the contents of the grocery bags.

"Why you! My bread!"

The woman returned his furious stare. Gojyo's eyes rounded as he took in the sight before him. Dressed in flowing white robe, petite (she did not even reach up to his shoulders), long dark hair, sloe-like brown eyes, sexy pouty lips [3]. Her fearful eyes appeared confused at first, but Gojyo had time to see a calculating glint in them, measuring him up before he was grabbed, twirled around, and kissed to. Behind him, nearly lost among the rustling footsteps of people hurrying through the streets, he could hear a distinct set of angry footfalls, and the wrathful voice again: "Wait till I get my hands on him! I'll castrate him! I'll roast him!"

Another speaker intoned: "He turned this corner just now, must still be around this area."

"Down the street! Should be just ahead of us," the first speaker commanded. 

"Right, boss."

Gojyo waited until the sound of the pursuers' footsteps had retreated far enough. _What a clever bitch, he had started to say as she broke the kiss, but the woman put a trembling finger on his lips [4] and shook her head, a slight smile on her frightened face._

_Please help me._

"Eh? Did you say something, my lady?"

_You can hear me this way. That's convenient. By the way, you are using the wrong pronoun. My name is Shuuji _[5]. _Nice to meet you._

"I'll be damned!" Gojyo shook his head, ensuring himself that this was not some kind of a twisted dream. "I'd just been French-kissed by a man in a woman's clothing, plus I'm hearing thoughts from that man. Which is weirder, you mind telling me?"

The petite stranger smiled up at him. He sighed.

"My name is Gojyo, Sha Gojyo. _Nice_ to meet you, too."

[1] Now you know what those bandages around his arms are for. (Glee!) 

[2] Yeah, amazingly Gojyo's brain still works! Even after those countless traumatic bashing from Sanzo's fan! 

[3] Original character #1, whom the author has determined is going to _die terribly_ for doing what she would be doing to Gojyo in a few seconds. For better description, refer to the main star in the As If in a Dream PV. 

[4] Original character #1 is going to _so DEAD! _

[5] Autumn child, or last child, depending on which kanji is the first character is (Ah, who cares!). Still going to be dead, never mind his actual plumbing. 


	2. Sweet dreams

Disclaimer: Characters of Gensoumaden Saiyuki belong to Minekura Kazuya.

Note: For parts in which original character(s) feature(s) (too) prominently, the title is marked with an *. So that you can skip 'em if you want. For this chapter, scroll right down to the second half for Sanzo-ikkou's part.

Sweet dreams, Shuuji*

Sleep should come easily to him, on this comfortable bed in one of the rooms rented by the weird party his savior was with. Shuuji was not a person who brooded on petty stuffs, like the blunder of the day. _But, dear Buddha on the high!_ he had thought earlier after "persuading" the redhead to provide him with a shelter for the night (he didn't dare return to the room his client had rented for him earlier). _What is the chance of coming upon this kind of stupid coincidence?_

Flabbergasted? No, he was merely amused, a smile blooming in his heart. Amused that the woman's husband had been his client in the previous town. When the irate knockings had begun, he had grabbed her clothes instead of his own, because the one-piece sack-like gown would be faster to put on than pants, tunics and shirts. Also, her purse was tied to the waist of the gown, of course. Plus he had thought that he had a better chance sneaking out the window to the streets, where, out there, none of them would have recognized him in a woman's garment.

It turned out that he had been too conceited. When he had looked out the window, a group of men had been ready for him down on the back alley. "That's him!" One of them had shouted. "Damn! That was the whore we had last week!" Another had called out. He had recognized Shuuji even before Shuuji had remembered him. _Oh right._ That was one of the group of men he had entertained about ten days ago, in a neighboring town. He should have remembered. They were a party of generous men, very generous indeed, if not in manners, then in terms of money. That had reminded him. Grabbing his own pouch from the night table, he had placed himself on the wall beside the door, which was shaking ominously from the attempts to break it. 

He had made it just in time. When the door had fallen down, Shuuji had been ready. The door-breaker (a big man, presumably the husband, whom Shuuji had also recognized as one of the _generous_ clients) had found a coin-laden pouch swinging directly towards his nose. The impact had not caused him to fall, but the daze it had caused had bought Shuuji enough time to rush down the corridor, the stairs, and then out of the building.

_Big stupid men. Brutes who think that they own the world through their size and fists. Them and their drunken boasting and rancid breath and jutting gut._ Lying here, in the safety of the homely inn, Shuuji realized that he had not obtained what he really wanted from the woman. Even though she was an ugly hag, she was a woman still. That was just too bad. There would be another town, another set of brutish male clients and another set of foolish female customers. _Money is not all of it._

Shuuji was letting that thought lull him to sleep, like a soothing litany

_Money is not all of it._

when suddenly, an earlier thought

_Big stupid men. _

infringed on the edge of his consciousness. _Big stupid men of the world… like Papa, who brought the wolf into the house…. _

* * *

Gojyo goes out for the night

After dropping off the guest at the room he and Goku shared, Gojyo gamely indicated his plan for the night to the other three, who were for some tacit reasons, gathering in Sanzo and Hakkai's room.

"I don't intend to spend the night playing poker with you guys." No sir. Not when this was their first stop in a real town [1] in months. The monk simply grunted in disgust as he unrolled the newspaper, which was stained with dirt here and there [2]. Everything from the monk sounded like disgust these days. Gojyo did not help things at all when he dropped another of his lame gay jokes on Sanzo (not the tampon joke, he was saving that one for a better occasion – the next time it rained, perhaps).

"Why don't you help yourself too, Sanzo?" Gojyo said as he preened in front of the mirror, combing his long hair with his favorite comb: his fingers. "Of course, to each his own taste. Goku, you room with Hakkai tonight. Give our Sanzo some time and space to make that pretty boy's acquaintance."

Hakkai stared at the red hair on the lanky back as a paper fan slowly emerged from Sanzo's sleeve. _How could you, Gojyo? And because Hakkai was still staring at Gojyo's posterior even as the half-breed executed a graceful evasive maneuver from the fan, he did not see a similarly hurt expression on the face of another person in the room. _And would you, Sanzo? _a pair of golden eyes asked._

"You're really getting old, monk, if even this shitty river boy is able to escape your fan that easily. I _honestly think that boy would suit you. Because he won't clog your ears with that noisy chatter you hate so _much_. Ha ha! Ta ta, boys, have fun!" Sleeveless jacket slung over one shoulder, Gojyo opened the door, then stopped in mid-action as he said: "Don't wait up for me, Hakkai," while still staring at the floor with sudden interest. There was no trace of banter in his voice this time._

The door slammed shut.

"Well," a trademark Hakkai-chuckle was heard in the following silence. _How could you, Gojyo?_ "Gone for the night."

"And if he couldn't walk back on his third leg it might as well be, because if Hakuryuu is well enough, we leave sharp at dawn tomorrow, and latecomers can walk, no, crawl after Jeep," Sanzo remarked acidly as he refolded the newspaper.

"Hakuryuu might not be well enough, even by tomorrow, you know," Hakkai reflected quietly.

"We'll see," the monk replied tartly, and stood up.

"Where are you going, Sanzo?" a plaintive voice came from Hakkai's side as Sanzo headed for the exit.

"I'm going out for some fresh air. And then I'm going to take that fool's advice for once. At least I'll have some _real_ peace and quiet tonight," Sanzo answered, looking pointedly at Hakkai instead of the questioner.

"But Sanzo…."

"Shut the hell up! I don't want to hear another peep from any of you for the rest of the night. Is that too much to ask for?"

Hakkai did not like the expression on Goku's face when the door slammed shut this time. He liked it even less when Goku literally rammed his snotting face onto Hakkai's shoulder and started to heave racking sobs. Sobs that sounded so heart-broken Hakkai would have cried along too, if not for the distasteful awareness that a damp patch was expanding on his newly laundered shirt.

This was not like the times when the mean old monk

_yes you are mean Sanzo you can be just _so_ mean sometimes _

had denied the boy some meat bun or an extra order of dumpling. This was something worse. And Sanzo had never put the hell between his shuts and ups. Even then, Goku, yes, Goku especially, should be inured enough in the monk's ways by now that a bit of hell from Sanzo would not kill. Looking at the sobbing boy, Hakkai thought: _Or would it?_

"Is that why he hates me?" Sobs. "Because I'm 'noisy'?"

Hakkai gently pried Goku from his shoulder. "Now, we all know Sanzo says things like that and stuff, but we also know that he doesn't really mean them," he said putting on his best schoolteacher voice. Putting on his schoolteacher voice (Hakkai tended to think of it as his bullshitting voice) was something he did when he had to convince someone of something he himself no longer believed in. "Otherwise you and Gojyo would have been so much dust by now."

"I don't mean that he hurt me by what he said just now," Goku managed to sniffle and blush at the same time. "I mean…"

Cho Hakkai had been sure of two things in life: One, Kanan was the one and only woman he loved. Two, he, Hakkai, was the one and only love of his sister. Now, taking in the expression on Goku's face, a face on the edge of confession, he thought he might have discovered the third item: He did not really want to hear the reason behind Goku's distress. Obviously, it was not as simple as due to being yelled by the monk. _Oh dear, we already have enough of this kind of problem among the _three_ of us._

"Goku," Hakkai cut in delicately, still in his schoolteacher voice. "Remember what I told you after the desert incidence?" And started the you-must-be-strong lecture, because you know, old Genjo Sanzo was a weak man who detested weak creatures and reserved the bulk of that contempt especially for himself, how he did not want to be saddled with the burden of protecting weak comrades, hence, you, Son Goku, must grow stronger, blah blah blah.

Hakkai stopped when he realized that a sleepy weight was slumped on his shoulder. Goku had fallen into a slumber in the middle of the speech, though it looked like uneasy sleep to Hakkai. _Well, time to put the sleeping beauty to bed,_ he said to himself as he carefully heaved the boy up and carried him to the other bed in the room. _Gojyo, Gojyo, what are you doing right now? _

[1] Gojyo's definition of a real town: A tavern, a gambling establishment and a *cough* brothel (back-up in case his charms failed to get him a free lay). 

[2] Gojyo dropped them all, remember? 

Thanks to Shiroki, Guardian of Jupiter for reviews! 


	3. Ryou gets depressed

Disclaimer: Characters of Gensoumaden Saiyuki belong to Minekura Kazuya.

Note: For parts in which original character(s) feature(s) (too) prominently, the title is marked with an *. So that you can skip 'em if you want. For this chapter, scroll right down to the second half for Sanzo-ikkou's part.

Ryou gets depressed*

He reached out for the copy of one of the four papers he always bought wherever he went. The boy at the newsstand watched dully as he threw the coins on counter.  _Hmm, nothing new under the sun for you kiddo, _Ryou [1] thought, gray eyes crinkling with amusement.  Bored housewives and matrons were not the only people who read this kind of tabloids.  "Demon burst in spontaneous combustion".  "Bosatsu-sama seen cavorting in strip club."  "Taboo baby cannibalized own mother."  "Farmer claims he saw disintegrating jeep."  The tabloids with that kind of headlines splashed across its pages.  Ryou read those tabloids because he knew that, sooner or later, he would see the headlines he wanted to on one of the pages.  It did not matter if it was just a one-column article on page five.  Sooner or later.  He knew, because he had seen an article of his interest thrice before.  The third article was the reason why he was here in this town in the first place.

      He debated with himself whether to go into the tavern next to the newsstand or straight back to his room in the inn across the river.  A few drinks before tucking in with some reading would be nice, so Ryou found himself settling down on an empty stool and balancing the sack containing his wares (plus one newspaper) on his knees.

      "Beer," he informed the bartender above the din.  Some sort of a show was going on somewhere in the tavern.  Ryou turned towards the source of the clashes and whines.      It was an itinerant storyteller type of show.  The whines were courtesy of a young girl on stringed instrument (_whatever these people call them_, Ryou thought sourly).  A graying man provided the sound effects with his cymbals.

      Ryou's eyebrow furrowed, fingers tapping on the counter grumpily.  He would be damned if he were going to have to listen to those tall tales when all he really wanted was to enjoy his beer.  He was starting to have second thoughts about the idea of drinking in this place when the boy behind the bar placed his order before him.

      "Here you are, sir."

      At least the twit did not address him as "Uncle".  Ryou smiled nastily, remembering how two towns away, his stare had nearly turned a youthful bartender into tears for daring to address him with that familiar term.  That night, Ryou had correctly been "sir" for the rest of his stay at the bar.  As he tilted his head back, savoring the wonderful bitter taste of the fiery liquid in his throat, he caught a glimpse of a red-haired youth making his way down the stairs.  Probably coming from the gambling den.  And richer than when he first walked in, by the smug look on his face.

      _Great Protector!_ Ryou almost spurted.  That arrogant stride, the showy way he tossed his long blood-colored hair, shamelessly proclaiming to the world what he was…. What kind of taboo child dared to appear in the public in such a pretentious attitude?  Ryou observed some furtive glances and whispers from a few tables as the tall man continued towards the exit, but that was all there was to it.  The relatively placid reaction of the patrons might probably be explained by the vaguely dangerous stance in the half-breed's languid movements: "I bite", it seemed to say.

      In the many towns he had passed through, Ryou had seen quite a number of taboo children, mostly

                  _There was one._

dead, hanging by lampposts or lying like dogs in the gutters.  The ones still alive would not be for long anyway.  And you rarely 

                  _There was one very much alive when I left him._

got to see a specimen as bold as the flamboyant young man who was making his way across the tavern.  Ryou grimaced, a disgusted look forming on his weather-beaten face.  Those abominations

                  _Where could you be now? This world or the other…_

would still have been tolerated had it not been for the demon madness, started a little more than a year ago.  Back in the old days, you might even have a family of demons as your neighbor, or a demon-boy serving you your beer, if you lived in the right town.  _Great Protector!_ Ryou cursed under his breath for the second time that night.  In a way, the madness (Ryou refused to call it the _Minus Wave – what a ridiculous name these people came up with!_) was a blessing.  It opened the eyes of these people.  So that they saw those pointy-eared bastards for what they really were.  _If only they knew…_ Ryou stopped the thought, as horror-tinged sorrow crept in his heart.  _Wake up, all of you._

      The girl struck   a new note.  The storyteller seemed to have begun a fresh tale.  The half-breed paused at the exit, turning slowly, as if the new story had caught his interest.  As Ryou started to listen in earnest, he, too, was caught.  His mug laid untouched for the next half an hour. [2]

      After the story ended, he had ten more mugs.  He told himself that he needed the break, that the story had depressed him.  He forgot his usual precautions about not having one too many, especially with the proceeds of the day's business in his pockets.  He had the ten mugs, and more, because he finally had succeeded in doing what he had failed to do in the last twenty years or so - lying to himself.  Oh, he was lonely and he was so, so tired.  He had been searching for so long, without anything to show for all his pains except the three clipped tabloid articles pasted in his journal.  All of his forty-three years weighed down on him.  Oh, he was depressed, so he had the right to be drunk for just one night, okay?

      _Fall from grace.  Reincarnation into lesser beings.  _

      The tale did not sadden him actually.  He was outraged, barely able to hold back from hurling the mug at the performing duo, at the bartender, at the few remaining patrons.  _What do they know?_ He ranted in silence, gulping down more of the intoxicating liquid.  _What do _these_ people know?_  Being demoted from god to human is not the worse thing that could happen to one.  _That way, you always forget._  There was at least one matter more horrible than that.  And these morons turned it into a vulgar romance, telling of fallen gods come to save the world in their current mortal avatars.

      _Hey relaxed old man, it's just an inane tale these peasants enjoy to hear, especially in times like this,_ a cold logical voice sounded in his head, which had started to pound ponderously.  Tomorrow morning wouldn't be a pretty sight indeed.

[1]  Wanderer.  A pun on the kanji _tabigarasu_, literally, traveling raven.  Yes, original character #2.

[2]  Supposedly this was a vernacular adaptation of the first part of the Tale of the Monkey, telling of the downfall of Konzen, Goku, Marshal Tenpou, General Kenren and Goujun of the Western Sea Celestial Army.  Actually Gojyo was just checking out the _erhu­_-playing girl – he disappeared about the end of the first out of tens of verses.  Ryou listened on, and was affected ~ by the gloomy tone of the story, I guess. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Goku has a midnight snack A movement from the other bed caught Hakkai's sight. 

"Is the light bothering you, Goku?" he asked, marking his place in the novel he had been trying to finish since he filched it from the monks at a certain memorable mountain temple. 

"No, it's not the light," Goku said as he pushed the blanket aside.  "It's just that…" he hung his head, as if in despair, for a long moment.  Hakkai was beginning to worry that the boy would start on _that_ again, when Goku broke his silence: "I'm sooo hungry, Hakkai."

      "Ha ha ha." A relieved laughter escaped Hakkai's mouth.  He should have known.  There was only one reason why Son Goku would wake up in the middle of the night: his belly.  "I'm sure we can whip up a nice supper from the stuffs Gojyo bought today."

      After the "nice supper", an inspiration had suddenly come to Goku: the boy wanted to take a walk - alone, and in the wee hours of the day too.  Hakkai did find that a little odd, but the mother-hen instinct in him failed to see any danger in letting Goku have his way.  After all, the fools (demon or human) unlucky enough to pick on the boy would have more to worry about than Hakkai have anything to fret about Goku.  Yes, no harm in that.  And so Hakkai let him go after some perfunctory don't-be-out-too-late nagging.

      With Goku gone, Hakkai returned (or at least, tried to) to the novel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ryou did not really feel _that_ bad until he stood up, or tried to.  _Should have known better,_ he berated himself softly as the tavern spun around him.  So instead of getting up immediately, he fished the correct change plus the exact amount of tip from his pocket and placed them carefully on the counter.  He was glad to see that the hand that was slapping down the coins was perfectly steady.

      "Keep the change, boy," he said to the bartender, smugly believing that there was no slurring in his words.  The boy looked at him for an instant longer than was proper before collecting the coins, counting them with unhurriedly.

      When the boy did not say anything about the payment being short or the tip being over-generous (would he?), Ryou stood up slowly and started towards the door.

      He hit both sides of the entrance as he stepped out of the tavern.


	4. Corrupt Monk Stares at the River

Sanzo contemplates

The railing of a bridge could never beat a window ledge as a place he loved to spend what he termed quality time with… himself.  Though the splendid view of the river in the moonlit night made up for the lack of a convenient place to lay his backside on.  Sending out a plume of smoke into the night, he appeared to be in deep meditation.  Yes, Genjo Sanzo was in a state of bliss, at least for the moment, standing there, alone on the bridge over the river that flowed through the heart of this town.  He savored the solitude, a commodity that had become rarer and rarer with each passing day since the moment the crew of four started for the west.

      He supposed people would have labeled him narcissistic.  Misanthropic.  Or to be more direct, an anti-social jerk.  People like that vulgar river boy.  They judged.  They _always_ judged.  They were the same wherever he went.  The ones who jeered at him as the river foundling at the Golden Mount Temple, and the ones who laughed behind their hands at that uppity loner with no life at Chou An.

      The sound of the current was hypnotic, carrying him away as suggested in his childhood sobriquet - Carried-away-by-the-River [1].  The current here raged harsher than the languid flow of the rivers back east.  _Things (except for those judgers and labelers) can never remain the same, no matter how much you wish them to,_ he thought as he lowered the end of a fresh cigarette onto the flame of his lighter.  He knew _he_ had changed: he needed them more than they ever needed him, he had realized that.  Because he was the only one with a personal motive to complete this bloody task.  At first, he had contradicted the nihilist inside himself by arguing that restoring world order and the glory of becoming its savior would be enough for those three.  As time went by, he managed to disabuse himself of that notion.  

      None of them cared for the trapping, pure and simple.

      What was to stop them if one day, anyone of them decided: _No, chief, I've had enough of this nonsense, I'm not going to take this shit anymore_, and just skipped town?  Fuck Kanzeon Bosatsu and fuck the Three Aspects and Fuck the World.  What had the world given them? For Hakkai, a dead wife, a murder conviction plus a new bright outlook on the world - through one single perfect eye.  For the river boy, a lifetime of humiliation and aspersion after a prep-course as a sparring partner at his stepmother's hands [2]. For Goku, countless years of maddening imprisonment, the cause of which not even the boy himself had an idea.

      He, Genjo Sanzo, at least had a very good reason for finishing the job.  Because deep in the bones of this skeptic, he knew that the key to the event on that life-changing night lay in Houtou Castle.  Even if he had stopped believing in everything else, he would still believe in this.  He would find the true murderer of his master and his own happiness there.  And then, even though killing the bastard would not give him back what he had lost, it would satisfy the bloodlust in him.

      But he was weak, and he knew that he could do this - easier, and faster if those three were with him.  _Talk about convenience._

At about the same time he had truly realized his need of them, he had started to scrutinize, to analyze each of the three even more carefully than he ever did, coldly examining every single detail, taking in every single clue.  And he saw.  Like the days when they both lived together in some town northwest off Chou An, Gojyo simply followed wherever Hakkai went.  Hakkai came along because he was indebted, in a spurious ways, to Sanzo.  Goku, well, Goku was Goku.  He owed Sanzo big-time for _his_ life-changing incidence at the Mount Five Fingers three years ago.  

      Hence Sanzo had long decided that Hakkai was the most dangerous of the three.  It would not take a brain much smarter than a Goku on diet to figure out that Sanzo's intervention had not been necessary to extract Hakkai from punishment for his heinous crimes.  Hakkai had been let off simply because the Three Aspects (or whoever on top of them) had _wanted _to let him off.

      A frown appeared on the chiseled face.  This train of thought brought him to a fact that wiped out his bliss.  In his current life, this added to the only two things that had been capable of robbing him off his peace of mind: indecent river boy and glutton city.  Even killing the supposedly menacing hordes of demons gave him perverse pleasure, by quelling down the bloodlust in him.  _Oh yes, back to the problem at hand._  Hakkai had seemed more and more discontented lately.  Sanzo suspected that the reason of the sadness behind the perpetual smile could be ascribed to one person: river boy.  River boy, it seemed, had not been keeping Hakkai happy, and this, in turn, was not making Sanzo happy.  

Sanzo had already attempted to put that problem to right ever since the night after their first meeting with the fierce young demon who called himself Kougaiji.  He had just been starting to make his move on Hakkai when the two fools of the group had interrupted them - river boy claiming that the Goku's snoring kept him from sleeping, and glutton city complaining that Gojyo vandalized his feet.  After the two had been dealt with the usual way and sent back to their own room with head contusions, Sanzo had continued his attempt, and Hakkai had succumbed - more easily than the monk had expected.

      He had thought that _that_ had been enough, that he, Sanzo, could fill the emptiness that was Hakkai's soul.  But tonight, he had seen that sleeping with Hakkai had not been enough to keep the man happy.  He could not replace whomever it was that had caused that dark void in the first place.  The person whose name remained unutterable on Hakkai's lips even as Sanzo, with his hands and body, had brought him to climax.  And Sanzo had a good idea who that person might be.  Talk about treasure left to rot, flower placed on cow dung [3]!

      The frown had now been replaced by a smirk as Sanzo flung the cigarette butt into the river [4] with undue force.  He was starting to fish out a fresh stick from the pack when he noticed a familiar jaunty figure trotting out from the inn.  _Huh, must be the hormones acting again.  Well, a good walk in the night will sure cool you down fast, Goku dear._

      "Goku dear" had not seemed to notice Sanzo on the bridge at all, because his head was pensively down as he walked towards the hub of the town, which took him in a direction parallel to the river.  _It's better this way,_ Sanzo thought.  It would have been too soon, after their last discussion (or what Sanzo had termed their eyeball-to-eyeball talk) the night before.  _I hope this thing gets out of his system fast.  The thought of _that_! _ He shuddered, and wondered if those two hardened romantic cases might not have fed the boy some of their funny ideas.  _Yeah, give others the same kind of trouble you two are having now.  The more the merrier, eh, Hakkai, eh, shitty river boy?_ They might have sowed the seed of their funny ideas into Goku's airy head, where it had taken wings and soared higher and higher - and higher - until yesterday evening, when it had turned into a bomb and had been dropped onto Sanzo's head.  A stink bomb.

      Sanzo rolled his eyes as he recalled his own initial shock, which had promptly been replaced by anger.  Not at the boy, but at his own beloved self.  He, of all people, should have seen that coming.  The time was right (or wrong from Sanzo's point of view), the coincidences were all lined up together like some fucking astrologer's chart, and lastly, he, Sanzo, had been careless.  Unforgivably careless.  How many casual acts of his must have kindled the boy's lust, how many innocent things said and done misunderstood and twisted in Goku's mind, that had led the boy on even more?  Especially in the last few months.

      He remembered forcing himself to listen to the stumbling words that had made up the boy's agonizingly awkward confession right to the end.  And after that, he remembered taking a deep breathe, hunting for his lighter and starting to build a bulwark of cigarette smoke around himself before starting to give Goku the eyeball-to-eyeball talk.  Nobody, not even himself, would admit that it had been as painful to him as it had been to the boy.

      Well, the problem of Goku would be solved soon enough - the boy would surely get over his silly infatuation.  Hakkai, on the other hand, would be a harder nut to crack [5].  Oh, the challenge that every leader has to face to keep his men happy!  Sanzo wondered if any general in the world had a job harder than his.  He wondered if any of those generals had any subordinates even faintly resembling _his_ underlings.

[1] Kawanagare Kouryuu (like no decent Saiyuki fan wouldn't know that!)

[2] This Sanzo had learnt from Hakkai.

[3] The first being a Japanese proverb; the second, a Chinese proverb - both describe - you know - the surprisingly uncommon pairing of beauty and the beast.  At least in Sanzo's estimation, this was certainly the case between Hakkai and Gojyo.

[4] Environmental rape! Pity the minnow that happened to be around.

[5] Either in *coughs* non-perverted or *coughs* perverted way.  Take it anyway you like it.

~~~~~~~~~~   ~~~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~~~     ~~~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~~~ 


	5. Goku saves the day

**Goku takes a walk**

Son Goku hugged the cloak around himself.  The breeze was pleasantly invigorating, far from chilly.  The coldness he felt came from _inside_.  For the first time since Mount Five Fingers, loneliness claimed him.  His heart was a riot of emotions: among them, sadness, shame and anger, but loneliness topped them all in a single swept.  Oh, but humiliation came a close second.  He bristled as he recalled that man's cold words, dropping like hailstones in slow motion.  Words that ridiculed and rejected, no, _repudiated_ his love.  While the others had only seen his golden eyes sparkled at the sight of food, the night now witnessed the same eyes blazed hotly as Goku replayed the scene from last evening in his mind.

      He recalled Genjo Sanzo's face, nearly obscured by the smoke from the cancer stick he was holding in his hand, that ivory, chiseled visage of a statue.  The mouth on that statue had been pompously articulating the gist of the Nothingness doctrine to him, again.  How Goku hated that pretentious little verse.  It was probably invented by a bunch of bored monastery dwellers with nothing on their minds but time, tea, incense and more time as they sat on their hunches chanting nonsense and counting their prayer beads.  Willing time away, waiting for the end.  Except that for Goku there would be no end.  He knew it the same way he knew his belly knew when to wake him up for night-time snacks or breakfast.  The same way he knew that Gojyo meant well for all his nasty name-calling and cheating at the cards and food snatching.  Death was not for him, no matter how much he wished it sometimes.  Like those unbearable times at the stone prison.  And like now.

      He had caught a glimpse of Sanzo standing on the bridge when he came out of the inn.  A lump had formed in his throat before he even realized it.  The sight of the severe beauty bathing under the moonlight moved him yet again as it had never failed to, since that time when its owner had stretched out a hand to free him from his prison.  The silvery reflection from the river danced across the monk's robe, taunting Goku: "See? See? Even we could play with him, he would tolerate us touching him, though he would not even have you pulling at the corner of his sleeves nowadays!"  The rushing sound of the river reverberated in his ears like a mocking laughter.  Goku felt stinging tears pooling in his eyes.  He quickly lowered his head and walked hastily away.  The monk might come out of whatever reverie he was in and noticed Goku, or worse, Goku's tears.

      A pair of wings flapping above his head startled Goku from _his_ troubles.  He looked up.  "Hakuryuu? What are you ___" he had meant to finish "___ doing here?  You're supposed to be resting!" but the little dragon had flown on ahead, totally ignoring him.

      _This is totally weird,_ he thought.  Pushing his not-so-little problem of the heart aside for a while, Goku started to run after Hakuryuu, following the dragon to wherever the supposed work-fatigue creature (or so according to Hakkai) was planning to go.

~~~~~~~~~~   ~~~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~~~     ~~~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~~~ 

**And saves the day (or night)**

The two henchmen of the tavern owner were having an easy time thrashing the itinerant medicine peddler into pulps.  The older of the two, a stocky fellow with a permanently dour expression, smirked as he bent over to ascertain that the victim was indeed unconscious, not that he had looked like he was smart enough to play that kind of trick on them.

      "Don't bother," his companion, barely visible in the shadows of the alley, said.  "Fuyou [1] at the counter said that he would have combusted if he had rubbed the door the right way when he went out of the bar."

      "He had that much?" the stocky man asked, tossing the drunk's pouch towards the younger fellow.

      "Yeah.  And he paid twice the correct amount too," the youth replied as he ransacked the pouch.  "Nothing in this bastard.  Pills and vials.  Probably his trade stuff."

      The older man grunted as he started to take off the drunk's belt, which was unusually heavy.  The coins from the victim's pockets he had already stuffed into his own pockets.

      "Hmm," he bounced the belt in one hand, feeling its weight. "Jiggles too.  Take this one, Houshou."

      "I'm already holding the goddamn pouch," Houshou protested.  His partner gave an irritated snort and was starting to say: "Dump it, it's worth less than your mother's afterbirth" when they were interrupted in that dark alley, where moments before they themselves had interrupted a hapless drunk who had been trying to deposit more than ten mugs of beer's worth of piss into the drain.

      "What are you doing?" a petulant adolescent voice was heard behind them.  Along with the voice, the sound of flapping wings resonated in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~   ~~~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~~~     ~~~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~~~ 

Ryou raised a hand to his spinning head.  He was still in the alley he had stumbled in to relieve himself.  He smelled of beer and piss.  And his head was not the only part of his body that hurt.  Those two had really been zealous in their work indeed.  No prize for guessing what they were after.  _And look who is talking here, mister,_ a mocking voice grated in his head.  _Who is the one who decided he deserved to be drunk crazy for the night, to be a fool for the night._  All because he heard some plebeian tale that had not been to his liking.

      He took in the scene before him as he braced himself into a sitting position, leaning against the damp wall.  In the dim light from the buildings across the mouth of the alley, he could discern a scuffle going on between a boy who did not look like he needed to shave more than once a week yet, and the thugs who had knocked him unconscious and had

                  _probably taken all my money. _

His hand went to where his belt was supposed to be… and grazed at the fabric of his shirt.

      Ryou's drunken eyes widen in amazement.  Those two would not like having to tell their boss how they were defeated by a kid barely dry behind his ears yet.  They were not doing too badly, for the time, but Ryou could tell that the outcome was more or less decided.

      He received his second surprise (or the third one, if you count being waylaid while trying to piss in a dark alley a surprise) for the night when he saw a white dwarf dragon hovering over him.  Ryou's jaws went slack as he almost wet himself.  If it were not for the confusion of the ongoing fracas, or his own state of inebriation, he would have felt that presence sooner.  The august presence of the

      "Eternal Retainer," he called out, his voice barely above a whisper.  Later in his life, when he recalled this moment, he found it difficult to describe the emotions that had overwhelmed him.  It seemed like the years that had weighted him down (particularly so tonight) had suddenly been lifted, leaving him an empty shell.  He did not remember crying, but he knew that his cheeks were wetly warm as he stared at the transformation before him.

      "Well-met, Scion of the House," a tall magnificent figure materialized before him.  _Well-met, indeed,_ Ryou's usual sardonic voice had recovered fast enough to notice the irony in the apparition's choice of words.  The tiny scales on the spectral cheekbones reflected eerie silvery light in the darkness as the figure offered a pale ethereal hand to Ryou.  Ryou's trembling fingers reached up for it.  As he was helped up, he felt some of his drunkenness dwindle away.  _Well, that is one of the things old Fish-face is good at, _he thought nostalgically.  How he wanted those days back.  _Give me back the stolen years._  

      "I command you,Retainer, to take…"

      "This Town of Bearers is not the place, Master," the shimmering visage interrupted him.  "Some seven score miles to the west, at the outskirts of the place called Simplicity, we shall meet again.  Until then, my duty is to…"

      Ryou's despair caused him to cut in with such frantic desperation that the remainder of the apparition's words were lost on him.  Not that it would matter to him had he even heard them.  Nothing, nothing could stop him from his single-minded purpose now that the object of his search had appeared right before his eyes.

      "How should I know the right place? Or find you again?" Ryou sputtered, totally sobered by insane anguish by now.  To be so close and yet… He watched with misery as the lustrous form began to fade away.  Choking back a sob, he fainted for the second time as the aftereffect of his happy consumption at the tavern returned with vengeance.

[1] Lotus.


End file.
